Writing Prompt #179 “Collage 30” and Wordle #122


Does it eat you up inside?
Does it stagger your imaginings?

I unhinge my appendages
and shrink into blackness.
A howling shibboleth,
a kyrkogrim quarantined.
I am void. I am sacred.

The gloam rescinds
into hollows of sunlight.
I pose solicitously by a wall,
each petal a key
to a dimension unfathomed.

The density of ink,
of a spirit bled and reapplied.
I succumb to endeavor,
to feints and static,
to windowsills smudged
with countless identities.

There is wisdom in instinct,
in the consummate craving.
I shelter within a tweed jacket,
pockets nicked by shadow.
So long as I remain, I will divide.



2 responses to “Writing Prompt #179 “Collage 30” and Wordle #122

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